THREE EIGHTEEN
by SANDEFUR
Summary: A rather long episode in my continuing third season. Sequel to #317.


THREE EIGHTEEN

by Sandefur

2-25-06/early Saturday morning.

Joan stops the family Volvo in front of an apartment building and honks the horn. Instantly, Julia Fellowes sprints to the car and hops in…

"Go, before my Mom sees you!"

Joan guns the engine and they are soon out of sight of the apartment building.

"Why all the secrecy?"

"I told Mom I was hanging with a friend today. She assumed I meant Susan. I didn't want her to see you and start asking questions. The name Girardi isn't too popular with her."

"I guess I can understand that. Did your dad come through with the information I needed?"

"Yeah, he was really thorough. He e-mailed a long list of possible places his cousin Marie might be hiding. I think he was glad to have something useful to do."

"Does he know this is about helping my brother Luke?"

"No, once again I thought it best to keep the Girardi name out of it. I only told Dad that Marie Brown was an important witness in a trial, and she was in hiding."

"How many leads did he give us?"

"Thirty-one. I've listed them in order of closeness. The first is her ex college roommate, Alice Easton. She lives in the 900 block of 'C' Street."

"Thirty-one names, wow. I hope we get lucky. It will take days to visit each location, and we will probably pick up new leads from the people we question. I can't thank you enough for your help, Julia."

"I figure I owe you. If you hadn't acted so quickly, I and half of the soccer team would have been thrown out of school on trumped-up drug charges. I can't believe those three St. Mary's girls you caught could be so mean. It's not even the official season—just a spring league for fun."

"If those girls had gotten away with it, I'm sure they would have thought it fun. It's sick, but some people have no greater pleasure than hurting others."

"Is that why you missed soccer practice yesterday?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know you told Coach you had a stomachache, but was Susan the real reason? Is she blackmailing you?"

"How did you know?"

"She's been doing it since junior high. Her dad specializes in treating troubled teens, and he keeps all of his notes and session recordings in a storage locker. Susan got her hands on a duplicate key, and now everytime someone crosses her, Susan checks to see if that person was ever a patient of Dr. Dan's."

"I was a patient of Dr. Radovitch two summers ago. Like most people, I'd hate it if the things I said in therapy were to come out. Susan sent me a copy of one of my therapy session tapes along with a note telling me to quit the soccer team or else."

"Joan, I'm so sorry. The first time Susan did this, she was being bullied by a mean upper classman. She saved herself a lot of pain by blackmailing her bully into leaving her alone. Since then, she's needed less and less of an excuse to do this to others."

"Almost like she's addicted to the power?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Thanks Julia, that's a big help."

The Volvo drives on through city traffic…

X X X X X

Later that day in Kevin's apartment, Luke has just arrived.

"Welcome little brother, you're right on time. I just put the pizza in the oven, and lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes."

"Thanks for having me over, Kev. I'm just glad your place is within the two mile limit of my electronic tracker."

"Aren't you use to that thing by now?"

Luke sits in a chair, crosses his leg and taps the ankle monitor. "I feel like a chained dog who is always straining at the end of his chain. Even in a fenced yard, you want off that chain because you know a few extra feet of freedom will feel so good. In fact..." Luke hesitates.

"In fact what? Dude, you haven't been off of your chain, have you?"

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"Luke, you keep my secrets. I'll keep yours."

"Okay. I've been dying to share this with someone. The night of the Valentine dance, I went around the city and placed G.P.S. trackers on the cars of Ryan Hunter's secretary, chauffeur and girlfriend."

"I might have known Joan was involved in this. How did you get away with it?"

"The tracker sends a coded signal to the base unit, and it analyzes the response time between the two devices, which allows it to determine how far apart they are. I built my own sender unit, duplicated the frequency and code, and then made it ten times stronger than the ankle device. When I switch on my home-made device, it drowns out the one I'm wearing. Its' signal is a faint echo that the base unit ignores."

Kevin shakes his head. "An incredible combo of cleverness and stupidity. What if you had been caught?"

"I know it was risky, but I had to do it. I wanted to help Joan. I'm convinced she's been right all along about Ryan Hunter."

"And another one bites the dust. I know Mom believes, and Dad is on the fence but teetering Joan's way. Looks like I'm the last rational Girardi."

"I don't know, Kev. How rational is it to conceal the best news this family could hear? How did your exam go yesterday?"

"I managed to move my toes on the other leg. Dr. Hughes was excited and ordered a lot of tests and increased physical therapy. He also said my sensation level below the injury spot was up to twenty percent."

"Kevin, that's fantastic. Why wouldn't you want to share that?"

"Because Dr. Hughes is the kind who hands you a pound of doubt with every ounce of encouragement. Just because I'm making progress, doesn't mean the old Kevin is on his way back. This could stop at any moment. I might be left with only the ability to wiggle my toes along with the occasional leg twitch."

"I understand about not wanting to raise people's expectations too high..."

"But that's the problem. When everyone hears about this, they can't help but get their hopes sky high. I can't do that to Mom and Dad, especially when the best case scenario would probably be me in leg braces, on crutches, and able to only hoble a few feet at a time."

"Still, even that would be amazing."

"I agree, and I would grateful for even that much, but I want to hold off until there is something more definite to report. Okay?"

"Sure Kev, it's your call."

(The over timer dings.)

"And lunch is served."

X X X X X

That evening at Skylight Books, Joan is running hard when she bursts into the store...

"Sorry I'm late Sammy. It's been a frantic day."

Sammy looks at his watch. "Only five minutes, and you don't make a habit of it. I'll let it go. It was busy earlier, but things have slowed. Our only customer is your boyfriend, whatever the latest one is called."

"Friedman. He hasn't been a bother, has he?"

"No, he's only been here twenty minutes, and he's been absorbed in that book of poetry. You might remind him this is not a public library. If he reads the whole book, he's bought it."

"I will. Have a good night, Sammy."

Sammy nods a brusque goodbye and exits. Joan strolls over to Friedman...

"If you're planning to romance me with poetry, forget it."

"Oh Joan, I didn't hear you come in. No, I just like poetry. It's a pleasant diversion from all the science texts I read. So how was your search?"

"Long, exhausting and frustrating. It took the entire day to eliminate a third of the list, and we picked up seven more names in the process. Apparently Marie Brown has an endless supply of friends and distant relatives she can call on for help."

"You look exhausted."

"I am. Over two hundred miles in city traffic! Julia was great, though. Without her help as a Concerned Family Member, most of those people wouldn't have given me the time of day. We're going to try again tomorrow."

"If you're too tired, I could take your shift for you."

"That's sweet, but I've already had Noah filling in for me much too often. I need to fulfill my obligations here. But if you don't mind, I didn't have time to eat. Could you grab me a take-away from the Chinese place around the corner?"

"Glad to be of service. What would you like?"

"The number five--beef and broccoli combo. Thanks."

"I'll be right back. While I'm gone, you can think of all sorts of fun ways to celebrate my upcoming birthday."

"Birthday? Is someone having a 17th birthday on Friday, March third? Must have slipped my mind."

"Well, that happens with you older types."

Joan sticks out her tongue as a laughing Friedman exits the store. Just as he leaves, a large man in a leather coat enters--the tough guy exterior of Sensitive God...

Joan says, "So, you finally show up!"

"Did we have an appointment I missed?"

"I've been calling out to you ever since I got that blackmail note from Susan Radovitch. What am I suppose to do?"

"Why ask me when you've already chosen a course of action?"

"How about a little guidance? Is it the right course?"

"Every choice has a myriad of consequences dependent upon the free will of you and of those people whose lives you touch. As a trained representative of Me, you are better equipped to make those choices than almost anyone else."

"So deal with what comes and adapt to changing circumstances. Yeah, I've heard all of this before. Then how about a hint? You once said you were all about hints."

"You were once given wise advice about what to do in a moment of moral confusion. Do you remember?"

"To...confuse the confuser? I'm suppose to follow my own good inclinations, and act with righteousness and kindness. Kindness I understand, but righteousness? That's being in right standing with you?"

"Each individual, within his limited understanding of my nature and ways, is expected to act accordingly."

"So the standard of righteousness varies by individual?"

"There are absolute standards of right and wrong, but between those two extremes is a wide spectrum of options and actions. Of course the spectrum narrows as one becomes more conversant with my will. Even so, the occasional egregious mistake can occur and be repented of. For instance, a certain young lady who let herself be convinced that stealing from the homeless was the right thing to do."

Joan blushes and hangs her head for just a moment. "I still can't believe I did that. What was I thinking?"

"That's the way the adversary works. He lures you with a whispered thought, and if you're not on guard, not well-grounded... Well, it's like a virus entering your computer. It's not long before your whole system crashes, and you're left shaking your head and wondering how this happened."

Sensitive God picks up the book Friedman was reading. He opens it to a poem and hands it to Joan.

"This is what Friedman was reading when you came in."

"Leaves of Grass? Well, isn't that a real kick in the side."

"An interesting young man. A scientist, and a growing man of faith who has a genuine love of poetry. Far more than a sidekick, in my opinion. That is, if anyone values my opinion."

Smiling, Sensitive God exits the store, giving the God-wave as he goes. Joan picks up the book of poetry and begins reading, Leaves of Grass.

X X X X X

2-27-06/Monday afternoon.

Lt. Toni Chadwick enters Will's office and hands him a folder...

"Will, this is my final report on Carlisle's murder. It's a long list of dead ends, and without some unexpected break, we're stuck spinning our wheels."

"What about the lead I asked you to follow?"

"The coroner admits to the remote possibility that the body could have been moved from another location a short time prior to the offical time of death. However, he emphasizes that it's an unlikely scenario. Someone with a thorough knowledge of crime scene investigations would have had to act very quickly. The body had to be kept warm, and rotated frequently to prevent blood pooling, and then be transported within minutes after death. Our Miss Lewis, who has an alibi, doesn't strike me as the type."

"What about the lead Carlisle was following?"

"Whoever our anonymous tipster was, they were right in thinking Ryan Hunter's cash withdrawals constituted a suspicious pattern, but it doesn't hold up under scrutiny. Vera Lewis and Marla Bennett both submitted detailed financial records that confirm Ryan's story. Another dead end."

Will sighs. "I hate to ask, but the bloodstains...?"

"Mouse blood, just as the Lewis woman claimed. I know it's as suspicious as hell, but there isn't a shred of evidence to link Vera Lewis or Ryan Hunter to Carlisle's death. Sorry, Will."

"We're all regretting a lack of an arrest, especially when members of Carlisle's family call for progress updates. It's frustrating, but we will have to put this case on the back burner for now. Perhaps someday an overlap from another case will give us a new clue."

"Speaking of overlaps, Roebuck was looking into Carlisle's case files, especially the one referencing Ryan Hunter. Sounds like he's been listening to the same anonymous source."

"He's shared some of his findings. Turns out Ryan owns the Arcadia gun club, and personally hired Marie Brown as manager. She's one of the state's key witnesses in my son's trial, and has suddenly disappeared."

"The D.A. must be freaked. Has a search been launched?"

"None. No one told Mrs. Brown she had to stay in contact, and her sworn testimony is on videotape. Even if she doesn't show up, her testimony will probably be admissible."

"But what about the defense's right to cross examine?"

"There it gets tricky. Mrs. Brown is more important to Luke's defense than she is to the prosecution."

"How so? She swore Luke used fake I.D. to check the revolver out of gun club storage."

"There's no doubt the gun used in the shooting of Grace Polk was my old service revolver. The prosecution needs only to demonstrate that without proving how Luke got his hands on it. The defense has an expert witness that says Luke's signature was forged, but the D.A. has one that says the opposite. Breaking Mrs. Brown's testimony is essential. It gets even more complicated because the gun club records show there were two .38 caliber revolvers listed under my name. My service revolver, and an identical gun stolen in Chicago years ago. Roebuck and I even went to the property room to verify the serial numbers."

"How could someone switch guns without you noticing?"

"Luke has been using the revolver exclusively for months, and the only difference between the two was the serial number. How often do you check the number on your sidearm?"

"I get your point, but who was familiar enough with your old revolver to find an exact copy?"

"The only other person to recently handle that gun was Ryan Hunter."

"Huh. That name again. So what are you going to do?"

"I can only hope that Roy finds Mrs. Brown, and that we can break her story. We only have a week before the trial."

"Your family will be in my prayers."

"Thanks. I guess it can't hurt."

X X X X X

Meanwhile, at the Arcadia High athletic field, Joan is the first one at soccer practice. Susan comes on to the field and angrily makes a beeline for Joan...

"Joan, what are doing here? Can't you take a hint?"

"Is that your euphemism for blackmail? A hint?"

"I'm warning you, unless you want the whole school to know what a total psycho you are, you'd better get off of this field."

"Don't you think you're going to an extreme over an unoffical, 'fun' soccer league?"

"If you had paid even the slightest attention to the local sports scene, you would know how important girl's soccer is to this school. As back-up goalie and a junior, Coach would have played me in at least half the games. I was a shoo-in for the position next fall."

"So you let your skills slide because you were sure it would fall into your lap? You should thank me for the wake up call. Besides, Julia and I are seniors. Next fall all of this will be yours, if you step up your training."

"Are you trying to make me mad? Go tell Coach you're quitting the team or everyone will know you're a nut job who thinks she talks to God. Do you want that?"

"No, of course not. I understand the consequences. Kids can be cruel, and I'll be laughed at and ridiculed mercilessly. Know what? Been there, and I can take it. Can you?"

"What do you mean?"

"When it comes out that you tried to blackmail me with my private psychiatric files, and it will come out, you will be a pariah at this school. By the way, that means social outcast, not Amazonian death fish."

"No one will believe an accusation by a lunatic."

"Sure they will. Publicity like this will draw out your other victims who will verify your horrible behavior the last few years. Do you think they're not chomping at the bit, waiting for the chance to bring you down? I may suffer some embarassment, but I'll also get a lot of sympathy. After all, my hallucinations were a result of Lyme disease, but what's your excuse? Do you understand what's about to happen to you?"

"What...what could they do?"

"First, you'll be off this team, not just now but in the fall too. Everyone will despise you, and the school may expel you. There's a zero tolerance policy on acts of intimidation. Then there are the consequences to your family. Your dad's practice will suffer, and he may have his license suspended. Then comes the lawsuits from your other victims. Imagine the financial burden and what that means for your future."

"Okay, I get it! I'm calling the whole blackmail thing off. You win."

"Sorry, that's not good enough."

"What do you mean? What do you want?"

"I can't let you continue blackmailing other kids. You obviously have no idea what a violation you've commited. I want ther key to your dad's storage locker. Right now."

"No way. That's none of your business. Just be glad you're off the hook, and leave me alone."

"No, I can't. Maybe someday you'll understand what it's like to bare your soul, and then have someone use that against you, but I hope not. It's too horrible a fate to endure. I can't help your past victims, but I'm making sure you have no future ones."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I still have the tape with your fingerprints on it, and the note in your handwriting. I'll turn them over to Price if you don't give me the key."

"And expose yourself?"

"Is this short term memory loss? Embarassment for me versus the total ruining of your life. The key!"

"Alright, I'll bring it in tomorrow."

"So you can make copies? No, I've seen the key you wear on a chain around your neck. I don't figure you for a latchkey kid, so that's it. Gimmee."

Slowly, Susan reluctantly removes the key and hands it over to Joan, who pockets it.

"Our business is concluded. Go kick your ball."

Muttering under her breath, Susan trots away. As soon as she is out of earshot, Joan breathes an enormous sigh of relief.

X X X X X

Later that night in the wooded area known as Liberty Town, Joan sits in the Jeep keeping warm until a sheriff's department car pulls up near her. Roy Roebuck leaves the police car's headlights on as he steps out of the car. Joan does the same as she exits the Jeep.

Roebuck jokes, "A clandestine meeting late at night in an abandoned part of town. It's like the start of a horror movie."

"Sorry for the elaborate precautions, but I wanted to guarantee privacy for this meeting."

"Why are we here? I haven't anything new to report. Marie Brown is still missing, but I passed on the word to friends in the state police to be watching for her."

"That's not why I called. I just wanted to ask you a question... How much were you paid?"

For a few seconds, a look of indignation appears on Roebuck's face, but Joan doesn't flinch. Her steady gaze causes him to lower his eyes in shame...

"How did you know?"

"You, me and Leonard Small, the assistant manager of the gun club, were the only ones who knew about Mrs. Brown's suspicious behavior. Leonard clearly resented Mrs. Brown for getting the job he felt he deserved. He wouldn't do her any favors, like tiping her off to a police investigation. I didn't do it. That leaves you."

Roebuck sighs. "When you told me about Ryan Hunter, I had my doubts. So I justified my actions by saying I was testing your information. When we separated last Monday night, I didn't set off in pursuit of Marie Brown. Instead, I text messaged Ryan that I was looking for his employee, and any info he could send me before noon on Tuesday would be appreciated."

"You tipped him off and let him know how much time he had before you acted. The price?"

"No amount of money was ever discussed, but if it was all true, I knew he would take care of me. On Wednesday morning I found an envelope on the front seat of my car. It had twenty thousand dollars inside."

"Why, Mr. Roebuck? Why did you do it? My Dad told me you were the most honest cop he ever met, and my Dad has high standards. He respects you and likes you. How could you do this?"

Roebuck removes his hat and runs his fingers through his snowy white hair.

"I don't know! Night after night I stare at that money and wonder how I came to this spot in my life. Maybe it's because I resent the hand fate dealt me. Twice, I threw away my career because I was determined to do the right thing. Now I'm nearly fifty, and I'm starting over, again! Or...maybe it's because I despise myself for being such a coward."

"What does that mean?"

"I was the one who gathered the evidence that brought down the city government two years ago, but I never had the guts to use it. I was afraid of what the politicos could do to me, but my fear cost me everything. I was squeezed out of my job at I.A., and when I looked for work elsewheres, I found I had been blackballed with every police department I applied to. Eventually, I had to crawl back to the corrupt politicans of Arcadia, and accept an arson investigator's job with the fire department at half my old salary. It was their way of keeping me under their thumbs. Fear cost me my reputation, my finances, and eventually my marriage."

"I'm sorry, but in the end you did the right thing."

"No, Will did. I held on to my secret file for over a year but I could never bring myself to use it. It's funny, but I use to pray that God would send someone to relieve me of the burden of what I knew. Then Will showed up, and he had the guts to do what I never dared."

"Do you resent him for that?"

"Hell no. Will treated me far better than I deserved. He gave me full credit with Sheriff Rakowski, and got me the job of Under-sheriff. Then I blundered and trusted two men I thought were friends. Once again I had to do the 'right thing' and resign."

"I understand that you feel that life has been unfair to you, but at least you had the solace of knowing you were an honset cop."

"And what did that get me? Old, broke and forgotten by a community that I spent my entire life serving. I guess I thought I deserved something more...just this once."

"So what now?"

"I'll have to resign again. I'll turn in the money and hope that I'm not prosecuted. I'm sorry Joan, but there's no way to prove the money came from Ryan Hunter. It will look suspicious on his part, but there's no proof."

"To hell with that. You made a mistake, but that's no reason to ruin your life. You're a good man and a good cop who had one momentary slip. This battle with Ryan has already cost my Dad one good friend. He doesn't need to see another one fall."

"So that's it? I suppose to go on as if I'd done nothing wrong?"

"There is the matter of the money. I want you to burn it."

"Burn it? But why? I could give it anonymously to charity."

"That money has your fingerprints all over it. You're connected to it, and trust me, it's dirty."

"Dirty in what way?"

"I don't know, but I do know Ryan. He's a master manipulator. Once that money starts to circulate, he has you. Whatever illegal or immoral connection there is to that money, Ryan will use it to either control you, or destroy you."

"Then...I guess I have to burn it. I'll do it as soon as I get home. How can I thank you, Joan?"

"Keep working. Find a way to clear Luke."

"I won't rest until I do."

Roebuck returns to his squad car, and just as he is about to enter, pauses. "You know, you took quite a risk meeting me like this in a dark, deserted place. I might have killed you."

"Maybe, but I trust my Dad's judgement. I was in no danger."

Roebuck chuckles and waves goodbye. Moments later, he has driven out of sight.

Joan calls, "You can come out now."

Dressed entirely in black, Dr. John Hunter emerges from the darkness. He is carrying a compound bow with a nocked arrow.

"I still have your back, Joan."

"And I appreciate it. I'm just glad you didn't have to use that thing."

"It's a hunting bow used to take down big game. It would have done the job, but I'm also glad I didn't have to use it."

"Do you think I did the right thing letting him off the hook?"

"'Blessed are those who show mercy, for they will receive mercy.' Yes, I think so. If we were all judged by one mistake, who of us could endure?"

"And, I felt I owed him. If Roy Roebuck had acted when he first gathered his evidence, he would have been the hero who brought down Arcadia's city government. My Dad never would have gotten the offer of police chief, and the Girardis never would have left Chicago."

"Every action or inaction can set off an entire chain of unexpected events. It's a good thing we don't know the consequences in advance. We would go mad contemplating the...what again is the word you use?"

"Ripples."

Joan and Dr. Hunter enter the Jeep.

X X X X X

3-1-06/Wednesday morning.

Joan and Friedman chat before the start of art class...

Joan asks, "Did you finish the assignment?"

"Sketch a favorite animal? Of course. What do you think?"

Friedman holds up a simple sketch.

"You're no Adam Rove, but it's definitely identifiable as a horse."

"It's a pony. I use to love riding them at the carnival when I was a kid."

"Hey, there's an idea. The annual March Madness Festival is opening Friday night at the county fairgrounds. Why don't we go there for your birthday?"

"Sounds like fun. Junk food, games of chance, clowns..."

"No clowns. Ever since I was a kid, they freak me out."

"They scare all little kids, but most of us get over it."

"Somethings stick with you. Hey, there will be bumper cars and a Ferris Wheel."

"And a tunnel of love?"

"Possibly, if I'm not too tired from soccer practice."

"Oh, that's right, you have practice on Friday. Are you sure you'll be up to a date? Between school, work, soccer, and spending every free moment with Julia looking for Mrs. Brown, you must be exhausted. Can't the sub-defectives help with the search?"

"It's not just a matter of finding the woman. I also have to convince her to recant her testimony. That's why Julia Fellowes is so important. As her relative, who is on my side, she's my foot in the door."

"I hope you get lucky soon. Luke's trial begins on Monday."

"I know. We're running out of time."

X X X X X

3-3-06/early Friday morning.

As dawn breaks, Joan becomes aware there is someone in her room. She opens one eye and sees her mother at the foot of her bed.

"Mom, is there something wrong?"

"I'm sorry to wake you, sweetheart, but I had a disturbing dream that I had to talk to you about."

"And it couldn't wait until breakfast? Wait, was it one of those special dreams?"

"Special and upsetting. I'm very uncomfortable discussing this with you, but it's about Friedman."

Joan sits up in bed and glares at her mother. "If this is about sex, I'm not going to discuss it, and I don't care what God may have hinted at in your dream. When...I mean, if I decide to have sex with Friedman, that's my personal business."

For a moment, Helen looks away--clearly embarassed. "I'm not really trying to pry, but my dream was a warning. It involved Friedman getting to...second base."

Joan chuckles. "Well, you're too late. He already has, a couple of times above the shirt."

"Okaaay, more than I wanted to know. In my dream, the two of you were on a tropical island. Friedman had a floral lei around his neck and was wearing a grass skirt..."

"Just a grass skirt? Gee, I hope he had underwear on. He gets easily...excited."

Helen blushes slightly and presses on. "You had flowers in your hair, and you were also wearing a grass skirt and a coconut bra."

"Ouch. Sounds painful. Mom, are you sure you didn't just dream about an old episode of Gilligan's Island?"

"In the dream, you removed the coconut bra, and Friedman, he began to, uh, he..."

"Played with my boobs?"

"Thank you for not making me say it. Anyway, this was followed by dozens of flashes of light. That's when I woke up."

"Oh, I get it."

"You do? You understand what that means?"

"Sure. I got pictures of Ryan making out with Glynis, so he's planning to do the same to me. He probably has some sleazy photographer following me around with the goal of catching me in some compromising position."

"And was there going to be a 'compromising position' tonight?"

"Since you asked, yes. It's Friedman's 17th birthday, and I was planning a scenario similar to your dream. Minus the weird tropical theme."

"Sorry I asked. I guess you'll have to changeyour plans."

"And miss seeing my picture in the paper under the headline: Police Chief's Daughter Bares All? Well yeah, I guess I will have to make some changes. Thanks for the heads-up, Mom. I know this was difficult for you."

"I'm a mother. It's my job to protect you, no matter how unpleasant."

Helen rises, gives Joan a kiss on the head and goes to the door. She pauses and looks back at her daughter.

"Friedman... Really?"

Helen exits as Joan lets out a litle groan, and lays back down, pulling the covers over her head.

X X X X X

A short time later, Joan enters the kitchen from the back stairs to find Will, Helen, Kevin and Luke at the table with a special guest. Marcus Brodie.

"Grandpa!"

Joan rushes forward and gives her grandfather a bear hug.

"Joanie! Good morning, sleepy-head. It's so good to see you again."

Luke says, "Grandpa came into town for my trial."

"And to give a little legal counseling to that young fellow you have defending you."

Joan says, "That's great. Did Leona come with you?"

"No, I persuaded her to wait. I didn't want her first to Arcadia to be for such an unpleasant occasion. Instead, we will both be here for you and Luke graduating in May."

Luke comments, "Provided I'm not in state prison then."

Helen gasps, "Luke, don't talk like that!"

"Sorry Mom, but we have to face facts. Conviction rates in gun crimes are extremely high, especially when drugs are involved. Most jurors assume you're guilty just because you've been charged."

Marcus says, "Which is where my expertise comes in. The first week of the trial will be about picking the jury, and I've got forty years experience in getting just the right people."

Kevin nods. "He's right, Luke. I've covered quite a few trials now, and jury selection is often as important as any evidence."

Will adds, "Plus, the prosecution's case isn't as strong as they think. I've never seen Roy Roebuck go at a case with such a passion. You would think it was his kid on trial."

Marcus says, "You see, Luke? There's no reason to be pessimistic. We will lick this thing yet."

"Thanks everyone. I wish I could linger longer Grandpa, but I have to get to school. Coming Joan?"

"Right behind you, Dog-boy."

Marcus says, "Well, at least we will have a long family visit after school."

Joan responds, "Luke will be here--with that tracking device on his ankle, he has no choice. However, I won't be back until late."

"Got a hot date, Joanie?"

"Actually, yes. It's my boyfriend's birthday."

"That handsome, athletic fellow from next door--Dylan?"

Joan forces herself to laugh. "Uh no, not really. Dylan and I broke up. I'm dating a guy named Friedman, and before you get started on your inquisition, hold all questions until the designated time."

Luke translates, "That means we're running late. Goodbye Grandpa, everyone. See you tonight."

Luke and Joan hastily exit while waving their goodbyes.

Marcus asks, "So this Friedman kid, does he have a first name?"

To Marcus Brodie's surprise, the rest of the Girardis laugh.

X X X X X

Minutes later, Luke is driving the Jeep while he and Joan talk...

"Mind if I use the Jeep tonight?"

"Why should I mind? It's not like I can use it in the evening. But doesn't Friedman usually use his mom's Volkswagen?"

"He does, but the Beetle is a little cramped. The Jeep has more space."

"For what? A heavy make-out session?"

"Frankly, yes."

"Really? With Friedman?"

Joan sighs. "Why does everyone keep asking that? I like the guy."

"Don't get me wrong, Friedman is my best bud, but he never seemed your type--or anyone's type."

"It's not like I've fallen madly in love with the guy, but he has matured a lot this year. And, he has a certain goofy charm that appeals to me. I guess we're headed towards friends-with-privledges."

Luke winces. "Gross. I really didn't need that mental image." (As Luke drives, he casts a brief glance at the back seat and sighs...)

"Thinking of Grace?"

"Oh yeah. We use to make the most of that small back seat."

"Eww. Now there's a reminder I didn't need before my date."

Luke laughs and continues to drive towards school.

X X X X X

Jumping ahead to late afternoon at the girl's locker room at A.H.S., Joan, wrapped in a towel and drying her hair, travels from the showers to her locker. Susan Radovitch, already dressed, refuses to look in Joan's direction as she exits. Joan arrives at her locker and finds Julia putting the finishing touches to her make-up.

Julia remarks, "You're running late."

"Yeah, I was really dragging during those last five laps."

"All for the cause. Our first game is next Saturday."

"Which means we will have to get lucky in our search tomorrow. If you're still up to it?"

Julia nods. "I said I would see this through, and I meant it. Besides, there are only six names left on the list."

"Yeah, but they are all out of town. We will have to travel all day if we are going to get to everyone."

"Then we will have to get an early start. Seven A.M.?"

Joan sighs. "With enough coffee in me, anything is possible--as long as my date doesn't keep me out too late."

"Oh right, one of the girls said there was a nerd waiting for you outside."

"That would be him. Friedman."

"Yeah, no offense Joan, but the whole school knows you were dating that incredible hunk, Dylan Hunter. You didn't exactly trade up."

"That seems to be the common opinion. It's true that Friedman isn't tall, muscular and classically good looking like Dylan, but he has a lot going for him. He's super smart, and funny, and most of all, he's a loyal friend."

"But is that enough? What about that spark of passion that only comes through true love?"

"Love? I truly loved my first boyfriend, and he cheated on me. I thought I loved Dylan, but when I failed to live up to his standards, we broke apart. Besides, we never would have worked as a couple because deep down, I didn't completely trust him."

"And you completely trust Friedman?"

Joan pauses, suddenly struck by the full implications of the question. She smiles.

"Yeah, I guess I do. It may not be the type of relationship they write about in romance novels, but it's what I need."

"You're too young to be so jaded."

"The last couple of years have been hard. I am what my experiences have made me."

Julia nods her agreement. "Aren't we all."

X X X X X

A short time later, out in the parking lot, Friedman smiles broadly as Joan exits the school. She greets him with an exuberant kiss.

"Happy birthday. Sorry I kept you waiting."

"Well worth the wait. So, does my outfit pass inspection?"

"White shirt and slacks with an orange hunter's vest and an orange knit cap--perfect."

"And it goes so well with your bright yellow skirt and blouse with white scarf. Are you sure all of this is necessary?"

"You tell me. As we turn towards the Jeep, take one quick glance to your right."

Joan takes Friedman's arm, and they begin walking towards the Jeep. His glance is so quick, Joan nearly misses it.

"Middle-aged, heavy set white guy with glasses and unruly hair. Wearing a brown bomber jacket, blue jeans and dirty white sneakers. He's on a red motorcycle and has a camera on a strap around his neck."

"That's amazing. You got all of that in a quarter second peek?"

"I'm a scientist. I've trained myself to notice details."

"Oh really? Then, brands of camera, motorcycle and sneakers?"

"Nikon, Suzuki, and New Balance."

"Wow. You truly are amazing."

Friedman chuckles. "No, you're just gullible. He's too far away to make out those details."

Joan smacks Friedman in the back of the head.

"And I still never see that coming. But seriously, I'm amazed you knew a photographer would be following us. How did you find out?"

"Sorry, classified information. Ready for the festival?"

"Absolutely, but drive slowly. The poor slob on the motorcycle is going to freeze on a brisk night like this."

They enter the Jeep and Joan quickly pulls away. After a brief pause, the motorcycle follows.

X X X X X

At the county fairgrounds, Joan and Friedman stroll through the crowds of people at the March Madness Festival. They share a bag of carmel corn while taking in the sights.

Joan says, "I can't believe they have this every year, and I've never gone before."

Friedman responds, "With the high school basketball season over, and college playoffs begining, the school board thought this would be the perfect time for a fund raiser for next year's basketball program. So, for twenty years they've held this festival the first weekend in March."

"How do you know all of that?"

"I checked their website."

Joan laughs. "That's my Friedman."

"Am I, Joan? Am I really 'your' Friedman?"

"Do you want to be? What I mean is, can we make a relationship between us work?"

"You've been completely honest with me, Joan. I know you don't love me, but I'm...more than fond of you."

"Friedman, please, don't you see it's better if we're not in love? I've gone through that heartache twice, and it sucks. Maybe I wasn't ready. Maybe most kids our age aren't ready to deal with those feelings. I just know I can't risk geting hurt like that again. At least, not any time soon."

"So where does that leave us? How do we define this thing...this degree of commitment?"

"I guess we're stuck with the old-fashioned terms, boyfriend/girlfriend. But instead of it being about love and romance, it's about friendship, fondness and respect."

"So, we are more than buddies, but less than lovers?"

Joan puts her arms around Friedman.

"Definitely more than buddies. As for lovers? Only time will tell."

Joan kisses Friedman fierecly and presses her body hard against his. Friedman responds enthusiasticly, and Joan is surprised to hear genuine moans of pleasure escaping her lips. Reluctantly, she parts from the embrace.

Friedman gasps, "Wow, I could really get to enjoy this more-than-buddies relationship."

"Did you notice the camera flash?"

"Of course. He's hiding behind the churros booth. Now that he has his opening shot, I guess it's time to move on?"

Joan checks her watch. "We still have plenty of time before our rendezvous. Let's see what this event has to offer..."

Holding hands, the young couple (followed clumsily by their tail), walk away to begin enjoying the festival.

X X X X X

A short montage of their evening includes the bumper cars, where Friedman bangs into the side of Joan's car. She shakes her fist at him, and Friedman laughs. Later, at a game booth, Friedman tries to win a teddy bear for Joan by throwing darts. His first two darts miss widely, and the third strikes one of the toy bears between the eyes. Joan throws her three darts and pops three balloons in quick succession. She wins and chooses as her prize the bear with the dart between its' eyes, which she gives to Friedman. Still later, Friedman and Joan ride the ferris wheel, pointing out the sights to each other. As they reach the top of the wheel, they lean together and kiss. Joan smiles and briefly runs her fingers through his hair...

Finally, they reach the ring-the-bell booth, and Friedman wants to try.

Joan asks, "Are you sure? Those mallets look awfully heavy."

"Relax, Joan. People think this is all about brute strength, but it's just applied physics. A mere calculation of speed, angle and degree of resistance."

Friedman hands Joan the teddy bear (still with a dart between it's eyes), and approaches the pole. As he does, a Mime falls in step behind him and imitates Freidman's every move. Friedman quickly grabs the mallet, hesitates due to the surprising weight, and then swings with all of his might. The weight rises up the pole about a third of the way and then falls back to the ground. The Mime does a frowny face, and imitates an arm with saggy muscles. The crowd laughs and the Carny calls out the score...

"All the way up to 'Wimp', you get a second chance."

A voice from behind Joan says, "Sometimes brute strength is the only solution."

Joan and Friedman turn to see Ryan Hunter and Vera Lewis standing nearby.

Friedman gulps. "M-Mister Hunter."

"Let me show you how it is done, young scientist."

Ryan takes the mallet from Friedman. The Mime strikes a muscle-man pose. Ryan takes a smooth, seemingly effortless swing and easily rings the bell. The Mime bows deeply while the small crowd laughs and applauds.

The Carny calls out, "A winner! What prize will it be, Mister?"

Ryan replies, "It's their five dollars, and their prize."

Joan glances at the prizes offered. "The fuzzy dice seem apporpriate, and give them to this lady."

Vera says, "Why Miss Girardi, how kind of you. Are these suppose to represent how lucky we've been?"

"No, they're a reminder of how soon you will roll snake-eyes and lose."

Vera glares at Joan and contemptously tosses the dice away. The Mime hurries over to the dice, glances at the roll, and slaps his fingers to his cheeks in feigned shock. Everyone looks and sees Vera has rolled a two--snake eyes.

"That...that means nothing." (Turns to Ryan.) "I'll be waiting by the ticket booth while you deal with this brat."

Huffily, Vera turns and walks away.

Joan jokes, "She seems upset. What a shame, especially since for the first time in her life, she has a man who can ring her bell."

Ryan smiles. "So you know?"

"About Marla Bennett and Vera's true inclinations? Oh yes, it wasn't hard to figure out which choir your so-called girlfriend sings in."

"Perhaps we can discuss this more privately?"

Joan shrugs. "Friedman, do me the favor of waiting by the parking lot entrance."

"Joan, are you sure?"

"Yes, Muscles isn't going to do anything in a public place."

Reluctantly, Friedman walks away. Joan and Ryan head to a nearby bench that is outside the traffic flow of the festival goers. As they sit, the Mime pretends to sit on thin air...

Ryan says, "You were right about one thing, Joan. Our game is rapidly coming to a close."

"Planning to flee the city with your tail between your legs?"

"No, I'm planning to hear from you that you curse the day God ever spoke to you. As you look over the wasteland of what was your life, you will hate God for having completely failed you, just as he failed me."

For a moment, fear appears on Joan's face, but then she notices what the Mime is doing...

"Oh look, he's trapped in an invisible box."

Ryan sneers, "Trapped in a box of his own making. Forever bound by his inability to admit error."

Mime God stops and stares at Ryan. "What error?"

"You know which one. Free will, and yes I know, without it humanity wouldn't be human. Well, what's so great about being human? Have you seen what your creations have done to this world?"

Mime God replies, "Most of the world's woes are caused by people choosing to live away from my best will for their lives. I am always there, ready to welcome them back, but most choose to remain distant from me."

"You prove my point. By leaving behavior up to us, you doomed humanity because in that divine spark of life, you forgot to include infallibility."

"But that very tendency to err is what allows you to grow as my children. You learn from your errors. You learn to seek after me, and thus grow spiritually. Without free will, you would be like robots. Capable of only following the pattern of your programming."

"So we get to suffer because of your need to have us seek you? Instead of robots, you made us rats ib a maze with you as the Big Cheese at the end." (Says to Joan...) "How can you serve such an ego-centric, love starved deity?"

Joan hotly replies, "Because he is God, and I've seen how much he loves and cares for us. I've seen the ripples that occur when I obey. You use to know this before you found an excuse to turn your back on him."

"We will see if you maintain that faith when he fails to prevent unjust tragedy from crushing your soul. Then, you will understand."

Ryan glares contemptously at Mime God and walks away.

Joan comments, "Wow. Look up the word bitter in the dictionary, and you'll see his picture."

"Have you considered his point, Joan? If you ever judge that I have failed you, would you still have faith?"

Joan ponders, searching her mind for an appropriate response. As she hesitates, Mime God does the blown-away-by-the-wind routine...

X X X X X

A short time later in the parking lot, the photographer, Henry Taschen, waits impatiently. (FOOTNOTE!) The Girardi girl is no where to be seen, but her goofy looking date, the guy dressed in white and orange, is pacing back and forth at the lot entrance. Shortly, the girl in her bright yellow clothes joins her boyfriend, and hand-in-hand, they begin walking towards the Jeep. The couple walks behind a burgundy minivan and Henry loses sight of them. When they don't immediately reappear, Henry begins hurrying after them. Suddenly, he spots them at the far edge of the parking lot, getting into the Jeep. Henry briefly wonders how they got so far away without him noticing them, but the Jeep is already pulling away, and Henry runs for his motorcycle. Moments later, he peals out in hot pursuit...

Back at the minivan, Joan and Friedman cautiously peer around the vehicle.

Friedman laughs, "He fell for it."

Joan responds, "And now we can continue our date uninterrupted."

They enter the minivan and Joan drives away in the opposite direction.

X X X X X

Half an hour later, the minivan is parked inside a well-lit storage unit that has the overhead door closed.

Friedman asks, "What are we doing here, and where is here?"

"It's a storage locker belonging to Dr. Hunter. Dylan lent me the key when he loaned us his minivan. With the only door locked, we are guaranteed privacy."

"So, is this part where we get down to some serious making out?"

"How did you know?"

"Luke warned me to treat his sister with respect. By the way, if I forget to mention it later, I really respect you for doing this for me."

Joan frowns. "Okay, note to self. Kill Luke at the earliest opportunity."

"I don't want to sound too eager, but how about I unwrap my birthday present now?"

Joan smiles. "Well, I did promise you unlimited, topless second base action. Just remember, we are NOT going all the way."

Friedman nods enthusiasticly as they move to the back of the minivan for more room. The begin making out, starting with slow, tender kisses, but their passion quickly grows. Joan recalls the last time she was in the back of this van was with Dylan... Unbidded, the image of Dylan's muscular, naked body, with sweat glistening upon him, appears in Joan's mind. She begins to moan with intense pleasure. Well, maybe she and Friedman could go a bit further than second base... No. No! What was she thinking? This was so unfair to her guy.

"Friedman..."

He is much too distracted to hear her. Hey, her blouse is already off. When did that happen? Oh yeah, while she was in mid-fantasy about another guy.

Joan says louder, "Friedman."

Friedman is busy, as he is about to put his nose into her cleavage and do that 'brrr' thing. Guys are so weird.

"Theodore!"

"Huh? What's wrong?"

"We have to talk."

"N-Now?"

"Yes, while there is still enough blood in your brain to follow a conversation."

Friedman stares at the munificence cupped in his hands and sighs deeply. Joan gives him a sympathetic smile and quickly puts her blouse back on. Friedman looks devastated.

"I promise we will get back to...the business at hand, but there's something I need to tell you. I have this secret. It adversely affected my relationships with Adam and Dylan, and I didn't want it to be that way with us."

"I don't understand. Our more-than-buddies relationship is so different, so unusual. Why share this with me?"

"Because it is so different. Our friendship has grown so much this year, and I've learned to completely trust you, and rely on you when life gets hard. I can lean on you..."

To her surprise, Joan begins to cry. Instinctively, Friedman takes her into his arms, and while her head is on his shoulder, he gently rocks her...

"Joan, you're always so strong, so sure of yourself. It's one of the many things I admire about you. This must be one heck of a secret. Are you sure you want to confide in me?"

"Yes. Because I do trust you, I need to tell you the truth, even if you won't believe me."

Friedman opens his mouth to speak, but Joan puts a finger to his lips.

"No, I'm not asking for promises in advance. I accept that you may not be able to believe what I have to say. All I ask is that you listen. It all started September of my sophmore year..."

X X X X X

At that moment in the Liberty Town area, Henry is sneaking up on the gently rocking Jeep. Camera at the ready, Henry peeks into the Jeep, and to his surprise, the girl dressed in bright yellow is not Joan. Suddenly, Dylan grabs Henry by the neck and slams him into the Jeep.

Dylan shouts, "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

For a moment, Henry struggles against the angry teenager who is holding him, but he quickly realizes he is no match for Dylan.

"Easy kid, this is all a mistake. I was looking for someone else."

"Joan Girardi? Why are you going after her?"

"I get it. This was a trick. That's why the two of you are dressed like the other couple."

The girl from the Jeep joins Dylan. She removes a brown wig to reveal Dillon Samuels.

Dillon says, "That's right. We're friends of Joan, and we take a dim view of creeps with cameras stalking her."

"Stalking? No, you got it all wrong. My name is Henry Taschen, and I work for the Free Press."

Dylan asks, "Why would the Arcadia Free Press be interested in Joan?"

"Actually, this was more of a free-lance assignment. A writer's agent spread the word of a five thousand dollar reward for any compromising photos of the police chief's daughter. Something about an article on the moral standards of the kids of public officals."

Dylan asks, "How did you learn the details of Joan's private life?"

"My son Scott goes to Arcadia High. He filled me in on all of the school gossip about the Girardi girl."

Dylan says to Dillon, "You know a Scott Taschen?"

"Uh yeah, a junior. A chunky kid with curly hair and glasses."

Henry says, "That's my boy, a chip off the old block. Look, I normally wouldn't touch a sleazy assignment like this, but I was behind in my alimony, and I was desperate."

Dylan grabs Henry's camera, exposes the film, and tosses it all back to the reporter.

"You really should upgrade to digital."

"It's on my to-do list. Can I go now?"

"Sure, but you better keep your distance from Joan. She has a lot of friends, and I'm the gentlest of the bunch."

Henry rubs his throat. "I get your point. I promise, I'm done with this."

As Henry walks away, Dillon calls after him, "If you were a real reporter, you'd be looking into WHY someone wants a picture like that of Joan!"

Dylan remarks, "A good suggestion, but I doubt he will follow up on it. Anyway, mission accomplished. Thanks for your help."

"I did this for Joan, not you."

"Still haven't forgiven me?"

Dillon briefly smiles. "Give it time."

X X X X X

Later that night at Friedman's home, he and Joan walk towards his front door. At the porch, there is an awkward pause...

Joan murmurs, "I'm sorry I ruined your birthday."

"Ruined? No way. I enjoyed the festival."

"But you were hoping for...'the hour of splendor in the grass'. I read the Wordsworth poem you were looking at."

"First, it's much too cold for an hour in the grass. Second, the part I was memorizing was: 'Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make, I see the heavens laugh with you in your jubilee, My heart is at your festival, My head hath its' coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all'. So you see, the festival was a perfect choice."

"Then I'm sorry for the lack of 'splendor' in the back of the minivan."

"Oh, well for future reference, personal revealations of cosmic proportions tend to put a damper on the libido."

"And here I thought nothing could cool down a teenage horndog."

Joan leans in to kiss Friedman, but he pulls back.

"What's wrong? I thought you said you believed me."

"I do believe you, Joan. After all, I saw you work a miracle at my brother's bar mitzvah. I know some people wouldn't call it that, but I know the circumstances, and understand the odds. God speaks to you. You are a chosen instrument of the Almighty."

"I can tell you're a little freaked-out..."

"Freaked-out? I use to make jokes about you being crazy. Now I wonder how you've kept sane with so much placed on your shoulders. I'm sorry if I ever added to your burden."

"Friedman, you've been my most steadfast friend and ally. I told you the truth because I trust you, and have grown so very fond of you. I didn't want my secret to come between us."

Again Joan tries to kiss him, but Friedman takes a step back.

"Joan, we can't! I'll gladly be your friend and ally, but that's all. You're like some prophet out of the bible, and I can't make out with you."

"What? Are you kidding me? You've been sniffing around me for weeks, and now, because you know the truth, you want to call the whole thing off?"

"I don't want to, I have to. Don't you see, anything else would be...sacreligious?"

Joan angrily stares at Friedman for a beat, and then grabs his hand and thrusts it into her blouse.

"Tell me you don't want this!"

Almost as if posessed of a will of its' own, Friedman's hand roams and explores for a few moments. Horrified by his behavior, Friedman snatches his hand back and stares at it as if expecting something horrible to occur...

"God forgive me."

Turning, Friedman runs into the house and slams the door. Joan sighs and stares up at the heavens...

"Must you spoil everything? There goes ANOTHER boyfriend!"

X X X X X

3-4-06/early Saturday morning.

Just after dawn, Joan enters the kitchen from the backstairs, and is pleased to find the coffee is already made. As she pours some into a thermos, Luke enters from the front of the house, carrying two newspapers.

Joan remarks, "You're up early. Did you make the coffee?"

Luke replies, "I haven't been sleeping well lately, so I've been starting the mornings by being useful--like making the coffee and bringing in the newspaper. By the way, someone left us a copy of the Arcadia Free Press."

"That rag? Don't let Kevin find out. His loyalty to the Herald is one hundred percent."

"Huh, marked in red ink, it says: See Page 4... Oh my God!"

Luke visibly shakes as he stares at a picture on page four. Joan looks over his shoulder, gasps and snatches the paper away from Luke. She reads out loud the caption...

"'Copping A Feel. Joan Girardi, 18, daughter of Arcadia's Top Cop, gets groped on a recent date.' How dare they!"

Luke mutters, "I warned Friedman. Now I'll have to kill him."

"Chill, Luke. It's not how it looks."

"Joan, I have eyes. Even though you can't see his face, Friedman's hand is, uh, in your cleavage area, and clearly there's a struggle going on!"

"Yeah, but I was the one struggling to get his hand into my 'cleavage area'."

Luke stares at Joan, dumbfounded. "Joan, being separated from Grace, I can understand about being lonely..."

"Shut it, pinhead. Don't judge me. Just promise you will keep this from Mom and Dad, and oh, Grandpa too!"

"I'll try, but what about the kids at school? Monday is going to be hell for you. Glynis will make sure of that."

"Why particualrly Glynis?"

"You didn't notice? In the fine print below the picture it says: Photo by Glynis Figliola."

Joan bitterly responds, "Oh, so she got me back for the shots I got of her and Ryan. Well, good for her. I hope it brings her comfort as she spends her days alone and shunned by all."

Joan grabs her thermos and exits out the back door. Luke tears up the Free Press and stuffs it into the trash.

X X X X X

A short time later, Joan is traveling on the highway with Julia Fellowes. Both girls are fighting off yawns while drinking coffee.

Joan asks, "So the first stop is in Marston?"

"An old boyfriend of Cousin Marie's. Joan, your bag is beeping. Is that your phone?"

"No, the only thing I have that beeps is the proximity alarm on the G.P.S. trackers. Dig that out, will you?"

"Sure. You have a tracking device on someone's car?"

"It's a long story. Can you operate it?"

"I think so...there! The screen map shows a number '5' and it's coming up on us fast."

"Number 5? Oh yeah, that's Mrs. Burke. Keep your eyes open for a grey Impala."

Both girls look about at the heavy flow of traffic. Soon, Julia taps Joan on the shoulder and points out a grey Chevy Impala traveling very fast in the far left lane. After it passes them, Joan swings over to that lane and accelerates...

Julia says, "Joan, the turnoff for Marston is coming up, and you're in the wrong lane."

"I'm playing a hunch. I think Mrs. Burke will lead us directly to Marie Brown."

"Why? And who is Mrs. Burke?"

"She's Ryan Hunter's secretary, and Ryan owns the gun club your cousin manages."

"So you think Mr. Hunter has her stashed away someplace to...what? Avoid litigation?"

"Something like that, so settle back and rest. The tracker will show us if she turns off anywhere. This could turn out to be a long drive."

X X X X X

Later that afternoon, Joan and Julia watch from the concealment of some trees as Mrs. Burke exits a mountain cabin. She enters her car and drives away...

Julia says, "Thank God. I thought she would never leave."

"We had to wait. I can't afford to have Ryan know I found Mrs. Brown. You say this cabin was on the list?"

"The very last location. It use to belong to her late brother-in-law, but no one has been up here in years."

"And it looks it. You remember the plan?"

"Fully rehearsed and ready to go."

The two girls approach the cabin, and Julia knocks on the door. It is answered almost immediately by a tall, thin blonde of about forty--Marie Brown.

Marie says, "Oh, you're not who I expected."

"Cousin Marie? It's me, Julia. Gabe's daughter?"

"Julia Fellowes? My goodness, its been nearly three years since I've seen you. What a lovely young lady you've grown up to be. But Julia, what are you doing here, so far from Arcadia?"

"I've been looking for you. The whole family is worried sick. We heard you were suppose to testify in some trial, and when we tried to contact you, you had disappeared off the face of the earth."

"I had no idea anyone would be worried about me. After all, ours isn't the closest family ever. I just wanted some privacy before the trial begins."

"I can understand that, but we--by the way, this is my friend Joan, who was kind enough to drive me around. Anyway, we were worried. Even the police are looking for you. As a trained legal secretary, you should know not to leave town when you're a witness in a trial."

"As a 'trained legal secretary', I know my movements can't be restricted except by court order, which they neglected to do. Honestly, that prosecutor's office has fallen apart since the days when your father ran it. But pardon my manners, why don't you girls come inside for refreshments?"

Joan and Julia enter the cabin, and Mrs. Brown serves them lemon cake and tea.

Marie says, "Now that we are all settled, how's your father, Julia?"

"Doing quite well, consdering the circumstances. He asked me to pass along a request for a huge favor from you."

"Well of course, dear. There's not much I wouldn't do for Cousin Gabe."

"Great. Dad thinks it will help enormously in his future parole hearing if you would fully co-operate with Joan."

"With Joan? Excuse me Joan, but who exactly are you?"

"I'm Joan Girardi."

"GIRARDI! Julia, you brought a...Girardi into my home?"

"Technically, this isn't your home. Please Marie, Dad is only asking that you tell the truth. Whatever your feelings toward the Girardis, whatever my Dad may have done wrong, he would never sanction an innocent person being sent to prison. Okay? Please, just do the right thing. Joan, does that square us?"

"Totally. For this next part, it might be best if you waited in the Jeep."

"Gladly." Julia says before hastily exiting the cabin.

Marie Brown glares at Joan. "Your father ruined my life, harmed my family and destroyed the lives of a lot of good friends of mine."

"Is that why you conspired with Ryan Hunter to frame my brother?"

To Joan's surprise, Marie blushes and casts her eyes downward. "I-I never thought it would come to that. When Gabe was sent to prison, I lost my job in the D.A.'s office. Even worse, I was tainted with the stain of corruption. No one would consider hiring me, even though I was never charged with any crime. When Ryan hired me as gun club manager, I was broke and desperate. I would have agreed to anything."

"So you knew going in that Ryan was after my family?"

"Oh yes, but I assumed it was your father he was after. I was okay with that."

"You hated my dad that much? But he only was doing his job--arresting bad guys."

"You're so young. You couldn't understand. Most of the people ruined in the big scandal that made your father a hero weren't villains. They were ordinary people who, by one small compromise after another, got caught up in a corrupt system that existed before they were born. It was always so easy--a small favor for a friend here, bending the rules there, looking the other way because others did it for you. Before you knew it, you were neck deep in corruption. Most, like Gabe, never accepted any money. Most of us got use to going along because the alternative was to turn on lifelong friends. It took an outsider like Will Girardi to bring it all to a crashing halt."

"Isn't it better to have honest government?"

"Like the kind Ryan Hunter runs?"

"Okay, I concede the point. Arcadia just naturally drifts towards corruption unless you stay on top of the problem constantly. But I'm not here to talk about that. On Monday, my brother goes on trial for a crime he didn't commit."

"I don't know that. I only know the part I swore to was dictated to me by Ryan. I'm sorry about your brother, I really am. When Ryan told me who he was after, I was shocked. I don't know what your family ever did to make him so mad, but he truly hates you."

"I guess you could call it rage-by-association, but how did Ryan get you to turn on a seventeen year old boy?"

"Fear. I worked in the D.A.'s office for ten years, and I've seen the lowest, craziest, meanest dregs of society, but none of them scare me like Ryan Hunter does. After the tiniest suggestion of reluctance on my part, I swear I could see pure evil seething out of his body."

"Yeah, Ryan can be one scary guy, but the question is, can you live with the guilt of sending an innocent teenage boy to prison?"

Marie sighs. "This has been tearing me apart. Even before you showed up today, I knew my conscience wouldn't let me go through with it. In the envelope on the table next to you is a letter I was going to send to the D.A. It recants my original statement."

Joan opens the envelope and reads the statement.

"'I, Marie Adele Brown, recant the testimony I gave to the Arcadia police on January 20th. The entire statement is false, and I made it under duress. An enemy of police chief Girardi compelled me to make the statement. I did so in fear of my life. I deeply regret the suffering I have caused Luke Girardi and his family. Signed, Marie A. Brown.' Hmm, an unwitnessed note won't be enough to clear my brother."

"That should be more than enough to have my original statement thrown out."

"Yes, but it's not admissible as evidence. To clear Luke, I need to show an active conspiracy to frame him."

"Let me make this clear, Joan. I will not appear in court. I will not name Ryan Hunter. If I did that, I wouldn't survive the week."

"I agree, but there is a way. I have a videocamera with me, and if you read your statement on camera, there can be no challenge to its' authenticity."

"That...sounds acceptable. Then I can continue with my original plan."

"Which is?"

"Run far, run fast and hide in the deepest hole I can find."

X X X X X

3-5-06/Sunday afternoon.

The Islamic Center of Arcadia is in a refurbished 19th century mansion in the riverfront district. On this mild Sunday afternoon, numerous food booths have been set up on the expansive grounds of the Center. A large crowd moves from booth to booth sampling the delicious food. A large banner proclaims: A TASTE OF THE MIDDLE EAST. Another proclaims: INTERFAITH COUNCIL BENEFIT. At the center of the festivities, four men chat about the event--Father Ken Mallory, Rabbi Aaron Polonsky, Rev. Albert Washington (still using a cane) and Mehmet Ali, the executive director of the Islamic Center.

Ali says, "Albert, are you sure all of this walking isn't bothering your leg? I could get you a chair."

"I'm fine. I've gotten use to using the cane since I was wounded last fall."

Father Ken says, "Thank God those anti-religion attacks are over."

Polonsky nods. "Yes, thank God. For a while, I thought those lunatics were going to start a religious war in Arcadia."

Ali says, "Although we did not suffer an attack, our people grieved over the violence inflicted upon so many."

Washington says, "Which is why the work of the Interfaith Council is so vital. To show the community how important it is to live peacefully together, and to celebrate all that we share as believers."

Ali responds, "We at the Center know this only too well. When we first bought this property ten years ago, most of our new neighbors were suspicious, and some were openly hostile. The hand of friendship extended by the Interfaith Council went a long way towards reassuring people that we were just devout believers with loving families, who only wanted to be at peace with all."

Father Ken adds, "Certainly this fund-raiser, giving back to the community, has laid aside all doubts."

Suddenly, there is the sound of gunfire. Not the sharp crack of handguns, but the deep booming sound of a heavy machine gun. People begin screaming and running as bullets rip through the crowd.

Rev. Washington yells, "Everyone, get down!"

Now experienced with suden violence, Washington is the first to hit-the-deck, but Polonsky and Mallory quickly follow. Ali hesitates, his first instinct is to help his friends...

Polonsky calls out, "Ali, get down!"

Too late. A bullet strikes Ali in the chest, and he is hurled back several feet before slamming into a tree. The three men on the ground call out to God as the bullets continue to whiz about them. Everywhere, blood flows...

THE END. PLEASE REVIEW.

(FOOTNOTE: "Henry", the reporter from the Arcadia Free Press, appears in one scene of the JoA episode, "The Gift". I assumed Henry didn't have a last name, so I gave him the name "Weston" in earlier episodes of my third season. However, I recently learned the show did give hiom a last name: "Taschen". He will be referred to as Henry Taschen in the rest of my episodes, and I apologize for any confusion... SANDEFUR.)


End file.
